Katie Engelhart questions the lighthearted cultural obsession with Jack the Ripper:
In 1988, the centenary of the 1888 “Whitechapel Murders,” Rippermania was alive and kicking—as evidenced by growing demand for Jack the Ripper walking tours. The most popular spot on the standard Ripper route was the Jack the Ripper pub (until 1976 it was called “The Ten Bells”) on Commercial Street, where one of Jack’s victims reportedly boozed up before her murder. The pub displayed Ripper memorabilia, hawked Ripper swag (like t-shirts depicting mutilated organs), and sold a blood red “Ripper Tipple” cocktail. “There’s nothing gory about it,” the pub’s landlady insisted. “It’s a great whodunit.”
But feminists had begun to rally against a thriving Ripper industry that, they argued, glamorized violence against women, fetishized the murder of prostitutes, and commercially exploited real-life murder victims. Some came together in Action Against the Ripper Centenary (AARC). “How can society call itself caring when it worships killers and forgets the women that were killed?” its founder charged. The group held demonstrations and staged a hundreds-strong march. Particular fury was directed at the Jack the Ripper pub. …
Twenty-five years later, interest in Jack endures. The Jack the Ripper pub is no longer—it’s back to being “Ten Bells”—but little else has changed. A London clothing shop, The New York Times reports, is channeling “the romance of Jack the Ripper.” Scotland Yard, London’s police headquarters, may publicly display evidence from the Ripper case—reportedly, to help plug a £500 million budget shortfall.
The Dish 